


the winter maid and the dragon queen

by politicalmamaduck



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire & Related Fandoms, A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-01
Updated: 2018-06-01
Packaged: 2019-05-16 18:04:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,056
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14816189
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/politicalmamaduck/pseuds/politicalmamaduck
Summary: The tongues would wag, the singers would sing their songs, but Daenerys Targaryen and Sansa Stark cared nothing for gossip. Let them sing of the Maid of Winter and the Mother of Dragons.





	the winter maid and the dragon queen

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Lenuca](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lenuca/gifts).



> Written for Lenuca as a gift in honor of her donation to reylotrashcompactor's GoFundMe. Please message me on Tumblr if you are interested in receiving a gift fic in honor of your donation.

The entire world had heard tell of the Dragon Queen, or so it seemed. 

Even atop the Giant’s Lance in the Eyrie, Alayne Stone heard about dragons and queer happenings in the east, of a Dothraki horde set to invade and pillage Westeros. The Lords of the Vale thought nothing of having their conversations with Lord Baelish with his beautiful bastard daughter at the back of the room, gracefully refilling their glasses. She nearly spilled the wine when it was mentioned that Tyrion Lannister was said to be among Daenerys Targaryen’s retinue, but thankfully, no one noticed. 

It was said she was beautiful, a true Targaryen with silver hair and violet eyes and her fearsome dragons and mounted Dothraki warriors to protect her. 

Alayne Stone and her bastard’s armor were long gone, however, lost to the sands of time in the same manner as the naive young maiden who believed in the chivalry and honor of knights. After reclaiming her birthright and leading the Eyrie’s host north, the woman was known once more as Sansa Stark. 

Winter had come, and the lords of the North had rallied despite the treachery of the Boltons to defend Ned Stark’s daughters in Winterfell and his bastard at the Wall. The war was now over, the Battle for the Dawn had been won, and there were so few people left to rebuild. The stores were empty, the fields crusted with frozen blood, and women and children thin and pale. 

She would go south to King’s Landing to account for Winterfell when the roads were passable again, and treat with the Dragon Queen, beg her for help and supplies. Surely her horde of strong Dothraki riders would be able to use their mounts to plow the fields, to travel widely across the lands that their Queen, or Khaleesi, now claimed as her own. 

Sansa was the Lady of Winterfell now, her sister Arya and brothers Bran and Rickon by her side. Jon remained at the Wall, though he knew there would always be a place for him at the high table. They could not lose themselves in the sorrows of the past, though they mourned their parents and their brother Robb. The pack would survive, as would the North. Sansa had learned about the reserves of strength she bore within her under her skin of steel; she now could and would do anything to survive and protect her loved ones, even traveling south to speak for Winterfell before the Mother of Dragons in the keep that still haunted her dreams.

 

* * *

 

Not much remained of King’s Landing after the ravages of war and greyscale, both courtesy of the mummer’s dragon, but Daenerys Targaryen would honor the true dragons that belonged in her ancestors’ halls nonetheless. She set the Dothraki and the Unsullied to rebuilding, and sent her trusted advisors to treat with the remaining Great Houses.

There was so much to be done, and seemingly never enough time or resources to do it. The treasury was empty, having been drained by the Lannisters and by the mismanagement of one Lord Baelish. The smallfolk had no grain to plant their fields before the winter frost, and what fields were planted were destroyed more often than not. Famine lurked around every corner, as well as unrest from those who did not trust a foreign queen with followers they deemed barbaric.

When her highborn guests finally arrived, during a light thaw, she was ill at ease, for Daenerys had heard tell of the liberties taken at the Usurper’s court, and at the courts of his sons after him. She heard about the abuses suffered by the Lady Stark, and the disgrace of so many noble families. There would be no bloodshed on her account, but she knew that Sansa Stark had no reason to trust her. Nor did Willas Tyrell, arrived from Highgarden, proud and tall despite his crippled leg. 

The wolf maid certainly was beautiful, and remembered her courtesies well. Her smile did not reach her eyes, however, and Daenerys knew Sansa’s heart ached to be in King’s Landing once more. Her eldest brother lost his head fighting for the North, and King’s Landing held nothing but painful memories of the Lannisters and her father’s murder. Sadness weighed on her, seemingly enveloping her like the heavy grey winter cloak she wore. The North suffered in a different vein than did the south, stricken by the hordes of Others coming down from beyond the Wall. Daenerys saw the devastation from dragonback, having turned her attentions north after claiming King’s Landing for House Targaryen once more. Tyrion Lannister, having proven himself to her, governed as Hand of the King in her absence, with Missandei and Ser Barristan by his side. 

At the Wall she met the Lady Stark’s bastard half brother, and heard from his own lips what horrors his family had borne. 

It was with this in mind that when Sansa Stark knelt before her, she raised her up with her own hands and kissed her direwolf ring in turn. 

“Lady Sansa, I thank you for honoring us with your presence here today. I know it is a difficult journey south in the winter, made even more difficult by the memories you carry from this place. But I am grateful to have you to represent your House, and to tell us how we can best help the North rebuild. House Stark was long a treasured ally of House Targaryen, and I mean to honor that alliance and the memory of your lost family members.”

Sansa nodded, standing elegantly and straight before all assembled. She was a tall woman, bearing the gravitas of the Starks with the coloring of the Tullys. 

“I thank you for your warm welcome, Your Grace,” she replied. “There is much yet to be done in the North; the women and children gathered at Winterfell have borne much hardship in addition to the loss of their men in the war against the Others. I ask that you honor my brother Jon’s alliance with the wildling folk, and allow them to remain south of the Wall as my vassals. I also ask that you send some of your troops North, to help us rebuild and to plant what we can in this slight thaw.”

“It shall be done,” Daenerys said, stepping down from the Iron Throne and raising Sansa up once more. 

“We shall continue discussing our plans for both the North and South tomorrow. You must be hungry and tired after your long journey, Lady Stark. We invite you to dine with us tonight, and then you may retire and see to your own comfort, as it suits you.”

To Daenerys’s great relief, Sansa readily agreed to join her for dinner after freshening herself in the suite provided for her. 

Sansa was relieved that the chambers provided for her were not the same ones in which she stayed when she was last in King’s Landing. 

“I am told these were once Queen Rhaella’s chambers,” a young Dothraki woman informed Sansa. Though the girl who would have swooned at such an honor was long gone, Sansa was still grateful for it. She did have to admit she was looking forward to a hot bath after dinner with Daenerys, and hoped that there would not be a great many people in attendance. 

Over dinner, the two women became better acquainted. At first, neither was sure where to begin their conversation, as there was so much to discuss and yet so much they did not wish to discuss, from Sansa’s captivity to Daenerys’s fears. They both had borne many losses, and had overcome them, and so eventually were able to find common ground. 

“I admire your grace and strength, Lady Stark,” Daenerys said as they enjoyed a now rare glass of Arbor gold. 

“Call me Sansa, please, Your Grace,” Sansa said. 

Daenerys nodded and raised her goblet. “To a new alliance, then, Sansa.”

Sansa raised her glass in turn. “To a new alliance.”

 

* * *

Time seemed to pass faster in King’s Landing. Perhaps it was that there was so much to do, or perhaps it was that it was not as cold as in the North, but several days had passed and Sansa had not yet made her plans to return to Winterfell. 

The smallfolk on the street whispered about the strange new world in which they lived where two women controlled Westeros. 

“The wolf maid and the dragon queen!” they exclaimed, watching overhead for the dragons and locking their doors at night for fear of wolves or Others. It was feared that the Stark she-wolf brought horrors down from the North with her, just as they had feared the Dothraki and Unsullied. And each day that went by without a massacre turned the exclamations and whispers into begrudging respect for the dragon and wolf women. 

Daenerys had spoken truly when she told Sansa she admired her at their first dinner. She was a capable administrator, having a good head for sums and a calm demeanor for negotiation. 

In turn, Sansa learned to admire Daenerys, who also had been forced into difficult marriages with men she did not love and had suffered the loss of her only family. They shared stories of their experiences each night over dinner, learning to trust and rely on each other. 

Sansa watched from a high tower in the Red Keep as a contingent of Dothraki and Unsullied took the Kingsroad north. Daenerys kept her word, and Sansa would do the same. Ned Stark’s daughter could do no less. Sansa had learned much in the years since she first went to King’s Landing, and she thought now that her parents would be proud of her and her siblings. There was once again a Stark in Winterfell; the pack had survived. Now, she could look past mere survival, and plan for the future with the Queen of Westeros. Her thoughts and plans excited her, and for the first time in far too long, Sansa Stark truly smiled. Surviving would turn to thriving, soon enough, and their dreams of spring would come to fruition. 

Daenerys had told herself her entire life that she was the blood of the dragon, and so she must be strong. She was strong for the Dothraki, strong for the Unsullied, strong for Missandei and Barristan, strong for the Meereenese. Now she was strong for the Seven Kingdoms of Westeros, and strong for Sansa Stark, who had truly become her friend and confidante. She could not help but wonder, however, if she could be more than just strong now. Despite the maegi’s curse and her lost husbands, Daenerys did not want to spend the rest of her life alone, strong and untouchable atop the Iron Throne. She knew Sansa felt the same, yet neither woman would settle for just any man from a good House as their wedded husband. Both women valued their independence and their power far too much.

Both women went to bed that night with songs on their lips and thoughts of the other in their minds and hearts.

_ I loved a maid as red as autumn with sunset in her hair... _

_ I loved a maid as white as winter with moonglow in her hair... _

* * *

Their peace was sealed with a kiss late one night atop the battlements, a full moon shining high in the sky. The air was cold, but both Sansa and Daenerys had warm winter furs on, furs that were soon abandoned to the floor in Daenerys’s chamber, a great fire crackling and roaring on the hearth. 

Several years had passed since Irri slipped into Dany’s bed and they made love. A woman’s love was different from a man’s, but no less pleasurable, if more gentle. Dany longed for her lost Drogo when she made love to Irri, but with Sansa, it was something else entirely. Her skin glowed pale as the moonlight; her lips were red as Highgarden’s storied roses. Daenerys loved to twine her fingers in Sansa’s long auburn locks, while Sansa enjoyed braiding her hair.

The tongues would wag, the singers would sing their songs, but Daenerys Targaryen and Sansa Stark cared nothing for gossip. Let them sing of the Maid of Winter and the Mother of Dragons, for their love would change a land ripe for healing and renewal.

**Author's Note:**

> A huge thank you to my beta boo Desiree for her help in making this fic the best it could be! I am always grateful for your feedback, dear readers.


End file.
